Cat's in the Cradle
by LM Simpson
Summary: ONESHOT Based on the song of the same name. Like father, like son.


**Cat's in the Cradle**

A fan fiction by LM Simpson

Disclaimer: I do not own Monster Allergy, nor do I own the lyrics to the inspiration to this piece of fiction, "Cat's in the Cradle," performed by Harry Chapin. Both were used without permission and when only used to create a non-profit piece of entertainment; I am not getting a cent off my creation and did not intend to violate copyright law when doing this.

LM Simpson's tidbits (A/N): As with most of my fiction (it happens with my original fiction as well), this was inspired by two things: boredom and a random event. In this case, it was listening to "Cat's in the Cradle". (I've gotten weirder plot bunnies, trust me on that!)

Now, about this- This isn't going to be like a normal songfic. Instead of the lyrics followed by my script, I'm going to "adapt" the lyrics into the actual story; the only lyrics that _will_ appear here will be the final chorus, and that's because it plays a role in my ending. I also slightly changed some stuff that did not fit canon, so don't get send me an angry comment saying I didn't always stay true with the song. To tell y'all the truth, I think it would have been kinda boring if I totally stayed true with the song…

Before starting, I would like to say my flame policy is still in effect; see my profile for more information about _that _(It's at the very bottom it)Either way, however, all reviewers will earn toast.

(Throws all reviewers-to-be toast)

Enjoy!

0000

It was winter. It was freezing outside, and unless one had a reason to be out, there was barely a person outside.

One of those with a reason was a couple, which had just come home from the hospital. In the woman's arms was a bundle in a blue blanket…

Inside the car, the new father looked at his son and smiled. He leaned a little closer to his wife, who was holding him, and removed the baby's cap off his head.

"Wow…" Zob said. He ran his fingers through what little fuzz popped from the baby's head like flowers in early spring. The baby, who had been sleeping in his mother's arms, awoke. He glared at Zob with what had to be the largest eyes he had ever seen, giving off a look of curiosity, and then closed them again and began crying.

Zob stopped. Moving his hand to the child's cheek, he tried to comfort him. "Hey, hey! Don't cry...! It's just Daddy, son!"

"Honey," Greta said. "I think he's just cold without his cap. Can you put it back on for me?"

"Sure! Uh… Where is it?"

"Crunched up in your hand."

Zob opened up his right hand. "Oh! Sorry about that!"

0000

Later that night, when the little boy was brought to his crib for the first time, Zob stayed put for a few minutes to stare at his son sleeping, his little chest went up and down with every inhale and exhale.

The new father smiled yet again. He gently placed a finger along his son's cheek and stroked it slightly, saying, "Sweet dreams, Zick. And if anything happens, Daddy is going to make sure everything's fine."

But everything was not fine. There were bills to pay that were overdue and that the couple could barely afford paying, not to mention the flower shop, but that was the least of their worries. Zob was always out hunting monsters and doing other crazy stuff with Terrence and with that came the constant threat of Magnacat, which caused Greta to worry something terrible would happen to him in the future...

Being so busy, Zob was not at home as often as he wanted. When it was too late out and he was too tired to go home, he would stay overnight at Terrence's house. Consequently, he wound up seeing his friend's toddler son more often than he did his own. Sure, Teddy was quite adorable in his little green overalls with a little bear head on the front as he was walking about and sucking a thumb or demanding for someone to give him a piggy back ride, but it just wasn't the same, it just wasn't.

It was not until fourteen months of this had happened did Zob realize just how fast his son was growing up. After arriving home after staying for the night at Terrence's again one day, he saw Greta outside, smiling and holding Zick.

"Oh, Zob… I wish you were home yesterday… Zick did something very special!"

"You don't say! What did he do?"

"Come in and you'll see…"

As it turns out, that 'special thing' was that—

"Zick learned to walk?" Zob said as he saw his son slowly taking step after step in a very clumsy manner towards his parents. He slipped and fell more than a couple of times, but every time he got back up and kept walking until he placed his little hands on Zob's leg.

"Wow! That was fantastic, son!" Zob exclaimed, holding Zick up above his shoulders. The infant looked at him smiled. A tooth that had begun to erupt near the left side of his lower gums could be seen.

As he put Zick down, Zob thought sadly, _I wish I could've seen the first time, though…_

Seeing his son learn to walk was not the first achievement he was not able to witness. One day, it was being weaned. Another was the day he learned to dress himself. But of all of them, the most emotionally damaging was when he had said his first word while his father was out—"Mama," to his dissatisfaction.

How Zick had come to idolize him was beyond his comprehension. Still, it pleased Zob whenever he asked his son who he wanted to be when he was "grown up." The three-year-old on his lap would not be silent for even a second before he blurted out:

"You, Daddy! I wanna be just like you when I grow up!"

0000

Zob could not believe it—the baby he once held in his arms was already ten. Ten! Even though he had spent quite a bit of those years with Zick believing he was gone forever, time had really flown by, and the boy's affection for him had only grew.

He looked at the sphere-shaped package in his right hand and smiled. This would have to be the best time to do it… The father than called out, "Zick! I need you to come down for a second!"

Slowly, his yawning son came down the staircase towards him, his blue hair tousled and still in his pajamas.

"Dad, it's Sunday! Can't I sleep for a few more minutes?"

"Well, yeah," he replied, "but I wanted to give you something before I went into the greenhouse."

He held out the gift in front of Zick, who grabbed it from his dad's palm and tore off the former brown paper covering it.

It woke him up like coffee. "It's a baseball…" he said, smiling. "Now we're a bit more like a normal family…"

He hugged Zob. "Thanks, Dad! Don't move; I'll be right back!"

It was not long before Zob could hear his son yelling upstairs, demanding that the resident Bombo would return his shoes. He chuckled a little, and his son soon came back down fully dressed and ball in hand.

"Can we go play catch now?" Zick asked excitedly.

Zob frowned. "I really would like to now, but I need to go over to the greenhouse and help your mother right now. Maybe later, I promise."

"Okay, I get it. I'll see ya later, Dad."

Zick hid his disappointment as he went back up to his room. He jumped back onto his bed without bothering to change back into his pajamas and buried his head in his pillow. As he sighed, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw his grandparents.

"What's bothering you, Zick?" Theo asked.

He buried his head again. "Nothing,"

"It doesn't look like nothing!" Tessa said.

Zick sighed again. "Okay, Dad just… disappointed me, that's all."

"How?" asked Theo.

"I wanted to play catch with him and he needs to work."

"Well," Theo said, "Your father is working hard t—"

"—But I already know that!"

"We know that, but you need to think about it this way—if you were in his shoes, what would you do?"

Zick paused. Then, he slowly said, "I would do the same, I guess…"

The white spirits smiled. As the grandparents left the bedroom via the wall, they said to each other, "Some things never change…"

0000

Greta shuffled back and forth across the den, looking distraught. Her graying hair had been put into a ponytail, and she was in the best looking casual wear she could find in her dressing that had not experienced much damage over time: a purple long-sleeved shirt and matching pants.

She looked at her watch. "Oh dear, oh dear… He's twenty minutes late…"

"Don't worry, Greta," Zob said, sitting in the armchair directly facing the chess table; he hadn't bothered dressing for the occasion. "Zick's probably just stuck in a traffic jam or something. That sort of thing happens all the time."

"I know that… It's just… You never know what's going to happen…"

Zob got up and hugged her when she moved close to the chair. "Trust me… Nothing's wrong…"

The doorbell rang. Greta did not waste a second to escape her husband's clutches and answer the door. The unmistakable cry of joy could be heard from the foyer the second she opened the door.

Zob heard her say: "Zick! We've missed you so much! Come in! Come in!"

Before he knew it, the father was met with the sight of his spouse and his grown son.

It was quite apparent to Zob Zick had grown up physically and mentally since he left for college. Not only was he a bit taller, but he was also talking to his mother about how he had recently got a job in a cinema and was going well in school.

"Hi Dad," he said, smiling.

The detention oasis' monsters, plus Timothy and his grandparents, popped out of various places throughout the room and ran or floated towards the college student; every one of them with speaking capabilities yelled, "ZICK!" simultaneously.

"Me miss Zick lots!" Bombo said as he hugged him.

Zick giggled. "I see I was really missed here the two weeks I was gone…"

"How's about you sit next to your mother and me and tell us about your life in college?" Zob said, patting the free spot on the couch.

Zick took a seat right next to his father. "Well, maybe not college exactly, but maybe—Oh!"

There was something moving in his jean pocket. Zick took out his cell phone, said "Hold on," and answered.

"Hello? ... Elena, this isn't the best time… Oh… Uh-huh, uh-huh… Okay, I'll see you then… Bye."

"What was Elena calling you about?" Greta asked when he hung up.

"I'm so sorry," he replied, "but I'm going to have to visit you guys again another week…"

"What is it, son?" Zob said.

"Well, I made some reservations for this restaurant and I guess I forgot all about them. I need to go get her in a minute so we can go…"

He paused for a second before blurting out, "Can I borrow your car for the night, Dad? I only have a bike that's at home and had to take a taxi here, and…"

Zob sighed. "Will you bring it back after?"

"Of course I will! I'll just take the taxi back to Bigburg again..."

Disappointed his reunion was so brief, he replied, "Okay… The keys are on the hook near the door… Please be careful, son!"

Zick got up, hugged everyone, and said, "Don't worry, I will. I'll try to see you guys next week. Bye!"

0000

Zob's body had become a victim of time. His back ached more than he thought it could (sometimes to the point he could not walk), even soft foods could make him choke, and had become considerably shorter. His skin became more reminiscent of a prune, and his hair had blanched.

He definitely had less energy than he did when he was younger, and that morning was no different. As he got out of bed, he ached more and wished he had just stayed where he was.

_Geez, _he thought as his feet hit the cold wooden floor, _what did I do to get like this?_

When he got into the kitchen, he saw Greta drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper. The radio was on, and Elton John was singing the final chorus of "Tiny Dancer."

"'Morning, Zob," Greta said. "I left some coffee in the pot for you. And make sure you don't burn yourself; it's piping hot."

"Thanks honey," he said, pouring himself a cup into a white mug.

Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle" began playing, and he hummed to the familiar, soothing beat. Then, he turned to Greta, and asked her, "Say, how long has it been since we've talked to Zick?"

"Oh, dear… At least two years, I think…"

"That long?" he said incredulously. "Time has really flown by…"

Zob walked towards the phone, picked it up from the receiver, and dialed a number. "This may take a minute…"

The dial tone beeped thrice, and then a weary male's voice came on. "Hello?"

"Zick!"

"Dad? Is that you?"

"Mm-hmm… I just thought it would be fine to talk with you for a while… Do you think you can come over from London anytime soon?"

Zick was silent for a minute. Then, he said, "I'd love to, Dad, I really would. But…"

"But what, son?"

"You see, the company wants me to go on a flight to Bangalore tomorrow for some business and Teddy wants me to do who knows what with him, and Gayle and Jeb are home sick with the flu… It's just been a nightmare lately. But maybe I can take Elena and the kids over when I get back in at least six months…

"Well, it's been nice talking to you. Tell Mom I love her. Bye."

"Bye, son…"

Zick hung up.

In disappointment, Zob hung up and sat down across from Greta.

"What's wrong?"

"Zick said he has to take a business trip… Won't be able to visit for at least six months…"

"Oh," she said, clearly let down as well, before sipping from her coffee again.

She sighed, "On the bright side, at least Zick's actually living life… Before Elena came, he was almost a complete recluse, basically staying at home whenever he wasn't in school or at the doctor's. I was worried he would never be able to live a normal life. But now he has a job, a family… Oh!"

"What is it, Greta!"

"It's just… It all just reminds me of you! You were basically shut off from the world when you were shrunken. And when you were cured, life went on…"

Zob's eyes widened. "You're right… I never realized that until now…"

He let out a weak chuckle and sipped his coffee. Wanting to get that subject out of his mind, he asked Greta, "Can I see the living section?"

As life went on in the detention oasis, the final chorus of "Cat's in the Cradle" played:

"_And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,_

_Little boy blue and the man in the moon._

'_When you coming home, son' 'I don't know when,_

_But we'll get together then, Dad._

_We're gonna have a good time then…'"_

THE END

A/N: (Gets ready for the Zick fangirls about to glomp me for having a baby Zick in my fic) Well, I did say that this fic was going to be more of a "cute fic," right? It _is _a specialty of mine for a reason… I love the cute (and I'm talking about cute in general) as well! (BTW- Zick's Italian voice is one of _the_most **adorable** voices in the history of ever. Now I wish there was this little talking Zick plushie that says five phrases in Italian so I can hug it to death! Too bad it doesn't exist…)

Anyway, I'll probably be back soon. I started another MA fic recently (Curse you, plot bunnies! Quit biting me so often!), and one of my friends read over part of it and liked it, so it might be out by the end of this summer. Until then, though, have a great day and thanks for reading, y'all!

Ja Ne!

LM Simpson

(PS- Greywolf09, I've begun beta reading your fic; I just got out of school last week so I finally have the time to work on stuff other than homework.

Also, everyone: I recently (to be exact, last Sunday) requested for a Monster Allergy section; knowing about support history, though, it may take more than one try, but wish me luck!)


End file.
